


Death by Inches

by TrueRadicalDreamer



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Actual Murder, Attempted Murder, F/F, Grief/Mourning, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 03:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueRadicalDreamer/pseuds/TrueRadicalDreamer
Summary: War becomes the rule instead of the exception, but there is no room for a stalemate on Eternia. Children grow up and find new and more horrible ways to hurt each other.Two-shot, but might become something bigger. Season 3 is a kick in the teeth; don't read if you don't want some spoilers.





	1. Chapter 1

Glimmer died in the rain. 

Adora gets through the eulogy without cracking. It isn’t her first, and it won’t be her last, but it is the most painful yet. At the end, she looks out over the black wave of mourners and wonder who will be next.

She wonders who will be the next friend Catra will kill.

Bow approaches her afterward and they stand by the glittery coffin that doesn’t even have a body in it until the Bright Moon guards take it away to their own private funeral, just one for a beloved former captain, before it would go to lay in state in the main throne room. Bow could have gone with them, he was officially the leader of the Bright Moon army now, but he stayed with Adora instead. He stayed while the crowd leaves, while the princesses still alive said their words and shed their tears. He stayed until it was just them, two friends left out of three, standing on the grand Bright Moon balcony, overlooking the lake and the Moonstone. 

“You need to sleep,” he says, but he sounds just as tired, just as exhausted as Adora feels. When he doesn’t get a reply, he just scratches his beard and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be inside. If you want to talk.”

She didn’t. “Thank you.” His hand squeezes for a second, trembling, before it slides off her shoulder. 

Alone, Adora finally let the tears slip out. Her sobs were like blows, bending her over. She heaved as if the entire world had just lost all its oxygen and her lungs were trying to suck it back. 

_Hi, Adora._

“Adora.”

Something in her chest clenched - hard. A wave of irrational anger strangled the sobs and pushed them back down Adora’s throat. “I don’t want to see your face right now, Shadow Weaver.”

The ancient mage made a noise that might have been a hum, or it might have been a scoff. Once, Adora might have cared to remember the different quirks of the woman, but not anymore. 

“Do you think I do not mourn?” she asked, though she drifted no closer to Adora. “Do you believe you have a monopoly on grief, child?”

Adora let out a lungful of air. She righted herself and turned. Shadow Weaver was lingering by the door, eyes wary. Like she didn’t know how Adora would react but was also struggling to hold still. The little tendrils of her magical cloak's hem snapped at the air like angry snakes. 

“Can you even feel grief anymore?” 

Shadow Weaver looked away. “Unfortunately,” she murmured. Louder, “I will go and see the official Bright Moon military funeral. They are making an exception to their ancient ceremonies for the queen’s companions, I am told.” It was the closest the woman could come to an invitation. It was an olive branch, or maybe her only way of asking for support.

Still. Adora shook her head. “I have something to do,” she said. She had decided during the funeral, toward the beginning of the eulogy. 

But Shadow Weaver surprised Adora again. She floated forward and tendrils of magic wrapped themselves around her arms. “Where do you need to go?” she asked. In the distance, out the corner of her eye, Adora saw the Moonstone shimmer and fade as energy was siphoned off. 

The surprise on Adora’s face must have been open because the woman’s glowing eyes narrowed behind the slits in her mask. “You do not have a monopoly on anger, either. Now, where do you wish to go?”

Adora closed her eyes. “The Crimson Wastes.”

The magic swirled. As much as Glimmer had learned from Shadow Weaver over their years of cooperation, the old mage had picked up some things from her student as well. Adora wondered, since there was no Bright Moon royalty left, if the Moonstone only reacted to Shadow Weaver now. It was a question, and problem, for another day. 

Heat washed over Adora. The last thing she heard was her old mentor’s venomous hiss: _“Make her hurt, Adora."_

As if she and Catra could do anything else to each other. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lied. It'll be three chapters. Maybe four. 
> 
> Also, great ideas for an actual AU series for She-Ra. If people like my stuff, I might make some time for it.

Glimmer died in the rain. 

Scorpia had been there, at the third (or was it fourth?) major battle of Thaymore. Catra had told her it had once been an actual Rebellion village, instead of just a Horde outpost on what used to be the edge of the Whispering Woods. Now it was just a barren, bombed-out hellscape that provided an excellent line of sight of the Rebellion line, some half mile away. 

What was ironic is that it wasn’t even supposed to be a major action. The Rebellion launched daily probing attacks on the Horde defenses, poking and prodding and scratching, hoping to find some weakness. The Rebellion’s top general was cagey like that; he never committed many troops to them. 

But this time had been different. He had caught one of the far flank’s camps totally unprepared and his skirmishing force had penetrated deep into the Horde line. The second that happened it was out of everyone’s hands - calls for reinforcements were sent in on both sides and the entire line went up in a blaze of magic and war chemistry. Every camp, every fortress, every trench was being assaulted. 

General Bow had found a chink in the Horde’s armor, and he wasn’t the type to let his enemy off the hook lightly. 

The worst of it came when someone spotted Adora. There were protocols in place for when that happened. 

Scorpia hated the woman. Ten years ago, things had been different. The war had been different. Casualties were low, on both sides, for such a large-scale operation. Hordak was content (never happy) as long as the red wave of the Horde advanced across the map of Eternia. He didn’t care about body counts, or troop effectiveness, or really anything at all that wasn’t in his lab. It had been months since Scorpia or the other captains had even seen him in person, really. Ever since the portal thing. 

Until Adora killed him eight years ago, in the Great Fright Zone Raid. Blasted him to pieces with that sword of hers. 

_“She-Ra destiny garbage,”_ Catra had hissed in her first address to her new empire, a month after the death of Hordak. The Horde had fractured into a dozen little pieces, and the Rebellion had taken back so much territory, but Catra had pulled it back from the brink. She had fought, nearly every day, in every front, in every civil war, until all the would-be opportunists were gone. 

Catra played the part of the distraught second-in-command perfectly. She’d even cried, something Scorpia had only seen a few times. Privately, though, she’d admitted it was all one of her schemes. She’d left a gap in the Fright Zone’s defenses. She’d made sure the Rebellion had enough time to finish what they needed to do. 

Things had been different, ever since the first portal activation. Catra had changed. Adora had changed. After Hordak died, the war changed to match their new hatred for each other. 

People started to die. Kyle died in a lab accident, trying to copy Entrapta’s notes. Bad coding on the robot, or something like that. Scorpia didn’t really understand all the tech stuff, and she had never really known Kyle very well, but she was thankful for him. Because of that accident, Catra brought Entrapta back from Beast Island. 

Scorpia had assumed it would be a fresh start for all of them. Entrapta had been mad, _actually_ mad, when she’d first seen Catra lounging on Hordak’s old throne. Mad about her imprisonment. But then the pieces fell together and the little woman had collapsed. Catra played the internal security footage of She-Ra killing him. 

Nothing was the same after that. 

More people died. Perfuma was the next, after Kyle. One of Entrapta’s new weapons (she was _only_ making weapons now) burned her to death with something called “plasma”. Glimmer teleported Lonnie into the clouds in the same fight, some nameless battle right after Catra had launched her surprise attack on the Rebellion. They had never found her body. Adora killed Rogelio herself a few years ago; cut him down at some border fortress on the edge of the Fright Zone. Scorpia didn’t even know of the woman remembered who he was. 

Catra killed Sea Hawk for that. Went all the way to Salineas, alone, to do it. She nailed him to the Sea Gate, facing the palace. 

It was the beginning of the tit-for-tat between the two women that was now consuming Eternia. Adora would act, Catra would react; Catra would act, Adora would react. It had gone on for years now.

And now it was her turn. 

Scorpia wasn’t ignorant. Catra didn’t let anyone stupid get as close to her as Scorpia had. She knew the second she watched Catra vaporize Queen Glimmer with one of Etrapta’s new weapon designs that Adora would come for her. It was why she had left for the Crimson Wastes, alone, without telling Catra. It was why she had dismissed all of her soldiers and commanders in this remote outpost and allowed rumors to get back to the Rebellion about her location. 

She waited for the woman out in the fortress's courtyard. The sun shining down on her claws felt wonderful; it always had. Years ago she had held on to the fantasy that, once the war was over, Catra and her could move the Horde’s capital here. It was something so different from the rest of Eternia that maybe they could start fresh. Or as fresh as they could, while still running a planet-spanning empire. 

But, Scorpia knew that no matter what Catra promised in the rare, stolen moments when she could tempt the Empress from work, that it would always just be a dream. She knew that the hurricane swirling around Adora and Catra wouldn’t pass her over. 

But Scorpia had thought it would hold off a while longer. A few more years, maybe, of enjoyment. Of the little slices of happiness she carved off for herself. 

The buzz of magic filled the air. Scorpia rolled her shoulders, did a few squats, and settled easily into a fighting stance. 

Adora, She-Ra, landed in the courtyard with a soft _thump_. Shadow Weaver’s dark magic cracked in the air above her before popping like a soap bubble. It left the fortress peaceful again, with only two people in the massive structure. 

Years had been kind to Adora. The woman looked the part of the heroic savior of Etheria now, no transformation needed. She was tall and muscular; the former vision of She-Ra had become the reality of Adora in the last decade. 

But Scorpia looked closer than most. She saw the scars, the scabs, the map of violence Catra had left on Adora’s body. Catra had her own injuries from Adora, that Scorpia knew intimately: torn muscles, limbs that Adora had ripped out of their sockets, and worse besides. Each one was a story that either began or finished on Adora’s body. 

It lit a fire in Scorpia’s chest. No matter who won, Adora or Catra would always be a part of each other. 

Adora exploded toward her and the immediate threat burned away the anger. The massive woman was furious. Her eyes blazed with a cold light that locked out Scorpia’s knees. Seven feet of sword-wielding demigod crossed a hundred feet in a matter of moments. Scorpia got her claws up only just quick enough to keep her head. The Sword of Protection pushed her back onto her heels, the blade inching closer to the side of her head. 

Scorpia’s tail whipped out, but Adora dropped one hand from her sword and caught it mid-swing. Scorpia pushed with all her might, but Adora’s sword arm held firm and Scorpia nearly screamed when the bulb of her stinger popped in Adora’s grip. Poison and pulp rained down on them both, but only Adora’s skin hissed and burned. Scorpia slapped her broken tail against the woman’s back, again and again, ignoring her own pain. 

It gave Scorpia the leverage she needed to make up lost ground. She was nearly as tall as She-Ra now, and just as physically powerful if she put her back into it. Adora would always have more dexterity, but Scorpia had weapons she couldn’t drop. 

Those pincers swiped out with the new breathing room and two red lines cut across Adora’s stomach. They were shallow, but it was a start. She set her feet and speared forward at the Rebellion hero, catching her around the middle and throwing her to the sand. The Sword of Protection flew out of Adora’s grip. 

When was the last time Catra had separated the sword from Adora? Scorpia didn’t remember, but she knew a chance when she saw it. She lept onto the woman, pinning her between her thighs, and started swinging. Adora had grabbed her under the armpits, and that stopped Scorpia from using the tips of her claws to skewer, but the hard exoskeleton was just as dangerous. The blonde’s face was a bloody mess after just a few hits. 

But the thrill of getting one over on the goddess slowed the hammering. 

Adora shot up between swipes and smashed her forehead into Scorpia’s chest. The demihuman rocked back, just enough for the woman to situp. Incredibly, Scorpia couldn’t break the bearhug Adora had her in. 

God, but the woman was _strong_! Adora grunted and growled like a wild animal and Scorpia felt herself being lifted off the ground. Using her legs alone, from a sitting position and with Scorpia on top of her, Adora was getting her feet under her. All Scorpia could do is slap her tail against the woman’s back until all she could smell was burning flesh, but that didn’t stop Adora at all. She-Ra exploded from a squat and arched her back, plowing Scorpia’s head into the packed sand of the courtyard in a suplex that shook her down to her teeth. 

Adora stood over her. She was bleeding from the nose and mouth, but just a few rubs from her arm cleared up the worst of it. Scorpia had been hitting her with everything she had and all she’d done was maybe break the woman’s nose?

“When did you get so strong?” she asked, then she laughed when Adora simply held out her hand and called back the Sword of Protection. Scorpia had forgotten she could do that, which meant that the whole wrestling match had been a farce from the beginning. 

The sword point came to rest under Scorpia’s chin. “Call her,” Adora ordered. 

“No.”

Scorpia groaned when the sword adjusted a few inches down and stabbed her in the shoulder. Then Adora twisted it and she screamed. 

“Call. Her.”

The pressure on the sword increased. Adora was leaning on it now and the pain was searing as it passed through the other side of her shoulder, through her massive shoulder blade, and into the sand. 

Scorpia’s tail thrashed, but Adora slammed her foot down on it before more of the raw poison could fall on her, which pulled another scream from the demihuman. 

“If you call her, I’ll heal you enough that you won’t die.”

The calmness in Adora’s voice frightened Scorpia more than the threat of violence, or even the sword already ruining her arm. Adora would let her die. Just like Kyle, just like Lonnie, just like Rogelio. 

And then the pressure eased. Scorpia’s eyes popped open and saw a metal claw holding fast on Adora’s hand. Slowly, painfully slowly, the Sword of Protection retreated. When it was out, Scorpia couldn’t help but gasp. 

But Adora wasn’t looking at her anymore. Her eyes were for one person and one person only. The demihuman who was holding her wrist in a metallic death grip. 

Empress Catra smiled, all teeth and smugness, at the goddess made flesh. 

“Hey, Adora.”


End file.
